


Fixing You

by Kendolly (JewelShards)



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Eventual Romance, M/M, cyborg! Ooshiba, mechanic! Kimishita, the fic no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9822443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JewelShards/pseuds/Kendolly
Summary: Kimishita isn't really surprised by anything anymore. That is until he sees a familiar cyborg laying unconscious and battered to hell on his father's repair table.It was unfortunate, Kimishita thought, how some people treated these synthetic humans – like animals or in this case, like garbage.





	1. Chapter 1

It was fucking _freezing_ out, Kimishita thought bitterly to himself as he tried to puff some warmth into his frigid fingers. He shouldn't be out here, not really because the shop didn't close for another hour or so and he was pretty sure his father still needed help. However, food had eventually called both their names and the old man had insisted. Kimishita frowned, his brows pinching together as he took in the fall foliage and yellow street lights. Now that he thought about it, neither of them had eaten since breakfast – since the sky was a brighter blue. They'd been doing that a lot lately. Skipping meals to fit in another hour of work. To squeeze in more customers with malfunctioning or broken machines just to make ends meet. It'd been tough on the old man ever since mom left and took half of the clientele with her. Apparently, she had fallen out of love. His father had gone on a huge spiel about a week after it happened - told him that everything happened for a reason and mom was a good person but it _still_  ended up leaving a bitter taste in his mouth because it was bullshit. If she was such a good woman, she would've stayed. At least that was his opinion. Kimishita shook his head and a leaf fell from his hair. It startled him enough to make him annoyed with himself. It wasn't like Kimishita to scare over stupid things – or anything at all really but a lack of sleep had taken its toll on him. It made him jumpy. Even now, his body was buzzing with fatigue and he felt tremors run down his legs due to sleep deprivation. Kimishita rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn as he came up to the nearly run down store front and pushed through the doors. He could stand to rest after this, probably, but then again the last time he got a full eight hours of sleep, his mom had left them high and dry in the middle of the night. It had blindsided him and he'd quickly learned that sleeping equaled out to vulnerability. 

It didn't matter, though.

He had other concerns at the moment like what to pick up for dinner. His dad probably wanted something quick, Kimishita mused as he scanned over the aisles before his attention was drawn to a stack of big ramen cups. That'd do just fine. Ramen would always be less expensive than shitty frozen meals anyway and in their financial situation, every penny mattered. He gathered up two cups and strolled up to the front where a teenaged girl and a cyborg were manning the register. The guy like looked bored to tears and he could've passed for a full on human if he hadn’t been able to see the chip and analyzing scope in the green iris of his right eye. He placed the items on the counter and mumbled a quiet, “this is it” before he remembered his dad wanted a pack of cigarettes. He made it a point to ignore the idle chatter the girl tried to start up without being too rude about it. He was normally polite to strangers but today just wasn't a good day for it. His spine stiffened when he felt a pair of eyes on him and he scratched the back of his neck in discomfort as she turned away and busied herself with trying to find the specified cigarettes on a wall stuffed full with them. He could feel the cyborg beside her boring holes into his brain and he didn't have to ask to know that the synthetic human or S.H. was gathering his data and background information. This guy wasn't even being subtle about it with the way his curious green eyes slid from side to side and his amazingly tall figure turned itself a little too much in his direction. _Rude_. Kimishita couldn't help but scoff as he pushed his money in the girl’s palm and took the bag. It almost felt like an invasion of privacy but whatever. It wasn't like he'd find anything interesting anyway. He was pretty boring being only twenty-two with no criminal record or massive achievements. And apparently, the cyborg agreed because he visibly went from interested to disappointed in about thirty seconds. Kimishita chose to ignore the twinge of irritation and thanked the girl instead. He breezed out the doors, standing still for a moment so his eyes could readjust to the dark. Not that there was much to adjust _to._ The store had been as dim as ever in the chilly night atmosphere and Kimishita made short work of the walk back to the shop, passing by thin trickles of people and random strays along the way.

He couldn't have been gone for more than fifteen minutes but the shop’s door already had its sign flipped around to 'closed'. Kimishita squinted and glanced at his watch, there was still like … forty-five more minutes of work left. And if they _did_ get any extra customers, they'd certainly be pissed to find them closed so early. He let it go, though, choosing instead to appreciate the early night and maneuver around the shop tables piled high with steel parts instead of bugging his dad about it and immediately hauled himself up the stairs. He definitely wouldn’t complain. He set the bag on the tiny kitchen table just big enough for _two_ (not fucking three) and honestly, he should have eaten after going through the trouble. But if the old man’s loud snores coming from down the hall were any indication, they had worked much too hard today and sleep was a better option. Besides, they'd _both_ missed out on dinner for nearly a week now – one more night wouldn’t hurt.

Right?

Yeah, it was fine, Kimishita decided and grabbed a sticky note, scribbling down a reminder for his dad to eat breakfast and pressed it to the coffee machine before heading to his room. His feet ached from standing in one place for hours on end, trying to fix some old lady’s archaic _cleaning maid_ and his back hurt, muscles twinging around his spine from hunching over an old steel worktable. Kimishita groaned when he stretched out the sore muscles running along his body and flopped on the bed – a sigh left his lips when his head hit the pillow. He didn’t even bother to shower, change or brush his teeth. He was more tired than he realized. E _xhausted_ , he admitted as his eyelids grew heavy and he eventually drifted off.

**

The next morning, Kimishita found himself waking up to sunlight searing his eyes and a super sweaty back from sleeping with his damn hoodie on. It felt gross as hell and as Kimishita grabbed his phone to glance at the time, he found himself being grateful that the shop was appointment only on Saturdays. It would give him a chance to shower after breakfast. Kimishita grimaced while he peeled off his damp hoodie and threw on a striped t-shirt. When he got to the kitchen, it was mostly quiet save for the thrumming of their old coffee maker and the sticky note he’d written last night had been taken off and put on the counter with a _“You eat too Atsushi - Dad”_  messily scrawled on the bottom. Kimishita sighed and shook his head. His dad should be worrying more about himself. After all _, he’s_ the one working his fingers to the bone and starving himself. _Mom’s damn fault,_ Kimishita’s brain supplied out of nowhere and there it was again. Anger and agitation intermixed with his blood and he had to breathe. 

Breathe deeply. In and out. 

In and out because it was too early and he was too fucking old to be worried about how much of a traitor his mother was. Only little kids got worked up over parental issues. Besides, she was a ‘good person’. _She was still a good person_ and as if to prove it, she had tried calling his cell phone countless times in the five months since she left. He would never answer. He’d just sit there and let it ring. Let Mom stew in her feelings and mistakes until he was satisfied which was never. Kimishita sighed. There wasn’t much of a point in being pissed off this early in the day. It was Saturday, a weekend, and he wasn’t going to let thoughts of her ruin it. Nope. He made some toast and slathered some butter on it, putting three slices on a paper towel before turning to pour himself and his dad two cups of coffee once the trickling came to an end. His dad was a honey-only-no-other-flavored-shit kind of guy but Kimishita, himself, couldn’t stand the stuff unless there was at least half-and-half lying around the house.

He nudged open the door after gathering the steaming coffee cups and was in the middle of saying good morning when he noticed a synthetic human lying on the table. His dad was stooped over the figure with black rimmed glasses and a frown.

“Atsushi” His father called, eyes still focused on whatever was troubling him. “Get me wire cutters and a soldering iron.”

“When did we get a synthetic?” Kimishita asked, confused, as he set their coffee off to the side and reached up to the shelf to grab the requested items.

“This morning …” He supplied, “… a friend of mine, his son, found him shut down next to a dumpster a few blocks away. The previous owners must not have wanted him anymore.”

It was unfortunate, Kimishita thought, how some people treated these synthetic humans – like animals or in this case, like garbage.

“So, what are you gonna do with him?” He asked as he blindly shuffled through the box of tools with a hand until he found the soldering iron.

When he didn’t get a response, he sighed. This was what his father was _really_ passionate about and he already knew it’d be a morning where the coffee would end up cold and alone. Older models of synthetics could take a very long time to fix – depending what was wrong with them – and the newer models were a complete _bitch._ It was a pain in the ass, in his opinion. Kimishita was about to prompt him again, tell him to pay attention but the words died in his throat when he walked up to the table. He swallowed and blinked, his eyes wide in disbelief when he took in the auburn hair and long body and Kimishita was willing to bet his paycheck that if the synthetic opened his eyes, they’d be a forest green. _No way …_ Kimishita held out the tools. His mind was busy trying to figure out the _why_ and _how_ of the whole situation because that nosy guy was watching over the convenience store with the short girl just last night. Twenty-four hours ago, he had a home and he didn’t look _anything_ like this.

 “It’s a shame isn’t?” Kimishita’s dad asked and began to prod around for what exactly Kimishita wasn’t sure. “Poor kid … we’ll have him fixed right up.”

 

Sometimes, Kimishita thought that if compassion had a physical body, it’d look like his father.

 

“Uh, yeah.” He replied stupidly, agreeing mostly because he knew his dad would be doing most of the work. This particular synthetic looked much too new and way above Kimishita’s meager skill set. He fleetingly wondered how a simple, small-time convenience store owner could ever afford something, or rather someone, so _expensive_ but he didn’t mull over it too long because his mind was **still** reeling over the fact that _he_ _saw this guy just last night_ and now he was in his father's shop after being neglected with a broken, hissing and sparking arm and other injuries. Kimishita stepped around his dad and leaned over, his heart racing the slightest as he took in the inhumanly clear skin all synthetics seemed to have and for a moment he wondered what parts of him were real and alive. How far had scientists gone when creating his life? Kimishita frowned, his eyebrows tight in apprehension. He was inches away from poking the synthetic’s cheek. Moments away from feeling the skin there when those green suddenly eyes flew open. Kimishita stepped back, startled and sticking his hand to his side like he’d been burned and watched, wary until his eyes fluttered shut.

Kimishita’s dad laughed.

“Startled you, huh?”

“Tch, no.” He lied and rubbed his neck to try and hide the flush that was building there.

“That’s good then.” With a knowing glance, his dad retracted a hand from the nape of the cyborg's neck. “These new models have a sleep function so they can wake up on command.” His dad commented. “I could have worked on him in sleep mode. But I haven't the foggiest idea if he has pain receptors and the boy's been through enough, in my opinion.”

Right. Working on a synthetic with pain receptors is different than performing on one without them and Kimishita was somewhat relieved that his dad had thought to totally shut him down. The guy didn’t need any more unnecessary pain. Being abandoned hurt enough as it was. Kimishita tried again. His fingers were calloused from years of working as a mechanic's assistant but he didn’t think it mattered much because when his fingertips finally grazed the synthetic’s cheek, it was soft. He couldn’t help but gently press into the skin, watching it indent under his pointer finger. His long eyelashes brushed against the bottom eyelid like ash and something about it was interesting until his father fucking snickered and he realized how _creepy_ he was being and how fucking weird he must look touching some stranger.

“Are you curious enough to get started on his arm?”

Kimishita flinched. 

“Fine.” 

This was simple enough that he didn’t need to ask what to do. He’d fixed arms before, at least. He rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a welding mask off the wall, setting it down on the second table behind him. He didn’t need that, not at the moment anyway. Kimishita sighed to himself as he looked at the forearm that was pretty much hanging by purple and blue wires and slithers of synthetic skin. They didn’t have any skin around the shop but at the very least, he’d be able to get his arm working again. Kimishita took hold of the arm, surprised by its density and gingerly rotated it, searching for the metal joint that was supposed to be his elbow and thankfully it was still there. That would’ve complicated things if his dad had to special order one stupid elbow joint.

He had only just begun to remove the detachable skin when his phone beeped. Fucking hell. Kimishita glowered at the name that popped up. Of course, it was Indou. Only Kazama had worse timing. Grumbling, he shoved the phone back in his pocket and began the task of removing the skin. He'd look at the text later. He worked the frayed edge of skin up with a gloved finger, mindful of the wiring. It was easier than it looked, lifting the skin. Kimishita slowly peeled it back and pulled a bit harder where it attached in smooth snaps underneath to expose a full metal arm. It was weird because this kind of thing felt and looked more real with each passing year but the uneasiness he used to experience as a kid having to do this kind of work had long disappeared. Kimishita’s breath was steady, his heart beat a steady thrum as he picked up the soldering mask and grabbed the previously sparking wire with high precision tweezers. If the tall synthetic had pain receptors, he'd probably been in a lot of discomfort before finally shutting down.

And how long had that been? Just how long had this guy been sitting injured until some dude’s son had found him? Speaking of which, Kimishita made a mental note to ask about the son's identity later. 

Kimishita proceeded to bond the wire back together after checking it with a voltage detector. This was the easy part and after he finished the first one, he started fixing a new wire and so on and so forth. He eventually found a rhythm, sweat collected along his hairline from the heat building in the small shop. They’d soon have to turn on fans and crack open a window to keep the air circulating. He worked through it, though, fanning the collar of his shirt every now and then and it was relaxing in a way - the repetitiveness. Kimishita narrowed his eyes as his gaze kept wanting to travel up to the guy’s face as he worked – wanting to take another glance at those stupid eyelashes and high cheekbones for a reason that was entirely beyond him. He wouldn’t though because he wasn’t a fucking creep and he barely knew him. Correction. He didn’t know him at all. He had only _seen_ him for the first time last night while buying ramen and cigarettes. He barely acknowledged the nosy idiot at the time and maybe he should have mentioned that fact to his dad earlier. That he'd seen him before. His dad seemed concerned about what could have happened and where he came from. It was evident in the way he tensed his shoulders and locked his jaw as he shined a light into the small open cavity in his side. It looked nasty, Kimishita noticed as he glanced over. There were angry, mottled bruises a few inches above the wound where his real flesh must have started but thankfully, the skin that was torn was the synthetic bit. He would’ve had to go to a hospital or emergency care clinic if it wasn’t and those places weren’t exactly known for being cyborg-friendly.

**

They must have been there for hours on end, soldering and clamping, welding and bending until his dad finally straightened up and popped his back with a grunt. The shop had grown dim by now and the automatic lights came to life. Kimishita was much slower than his dad at fixing machines and synthetics so when the old man had started covering the metal of three ribs with a brand-new plate and pulling the skin back into place, Kimishita was still just trying to connect the thicker cables. They were giving him trouble and he probably needed help but couldn’t find it in him to bother asking for it. His dad had worked hard enough and besides, Kimishita was supposed to have been proficient with this kind of shit by now.

“I know you’re still working,” His father started with a small smile, “but we should boot him back up. We need to figure out if anything is wrong with his computer system.”

Kimishita drew his head back, incredulous. “Hah?” He said and clicked his tongue after taking off his mask. “What happened to you being worried about pain receptors and all that?”

His dad frowned, forehead creased in thought for only a second and shrugged. “You're nearly finished.” He started, “Besides, pain receptors on synthetics aren’t remotely as strong as they are on a full human. You should know that already." He jokingly reprimanded. "He should be okay to wake now.”

And obviously, that was that because before Kimishita could respond, his dad was already reaching over to prod that same part of his skull just as he did earlier and it only took a few seconds before Kimishita could hear the soft whirring of robotic parts. It happened pretty fast - about seven seconds and Kimishita couldn't help but be impressed by how quickly he booted up. He stood back and crossed his arms as the cyborg spurred to life and his eyes snapped open.

He looked dazed, then alarmed – all too alert as he shot up and looked around.

“Where the hell am I?” He asked, gritting his teeth and wincing when his disjointed arm awkwardly swung.

Kimishita opened his mouth to talk and it was quiet for barely a beat before the cyborg started yelling. 

“Hey!” The tall synthetic shouted and hopped off the table, green eyes blazing. He didn't even give them a chance. “I asked a question! WHERE AM I EVEN-”

 “You’re in a repair shop!” Kimishita snapped and pointed a finger to the sign inside.

“Atsushi,” His dad tried, “stay calm-”

But Kimishita wasn’t having it.

“We just spent the whole day _repairing_ you! Look at your leg, bastard!”

The synthetic was startled at that. His eyes widened in a vague sense of understanding before he looked around the shop in wonder and then finally glanced down at his newly repaired leg. He dropped his jaw in disbelief and Kimishita watched as he moved his leg. It bent at the knee like it was supposed to and by the looks of it, it didn’t hurt at all.

“Oh” Was all the hunk of metal said and Kimishita found himself growing irritated.

This guy stressed him out.

“Yeah, _oh_.” He mocked, recoiling a little at his father’s glare. Right, he had to be understanding. He supposed the guy _would be_ on edge after all he'd been through.

“So,” His dad cleared his throat and smiled, “What’s your name, kid? Are you in any pain?”

 Maybe it was that he was being treated humanely or had been called a kid but the synthetic stiffened. His back was rigid, good arm practically glued to his side as he looked at Kimishita’s dad and his tone softened.

“My name is K54567850. I'm a company subtype.” He muttered and Kimishita was about to roll his eyes until he spoke up again. “My other name is Ooshiba Kiichi and no, I’m not … I’m not in much pain.” He frowned and stared down at his damaged arm. If he wanted to say more, he didn’t.

“Who was working on my arm?” He asked instead.

“I was.” Kimishita glared at the cyborg, now known to be Ooshiba, silently daring him to say something rude.

And he fucking did.

“It still looks like crap.”

Kimishita growled and his fingers _itched_ to snatch Ooshiba by the shirt collar and maybe even punch him in the face. 

“Listen here,” He snarled. “I’m not even fuckin’ finished yet but-”

“Language” His dad languidly scolded. He grabbed the coffee cups and stale toast, already turning to head upstairs to the apartment. “Come get me when you're finished fixing up your best friend."

He knew his father was teasing as fucking usual and that it was absolutely pointless to say anything so instead of replying, he returned his attention back to the tall synthetic after glaring down his father’s retreating figure. His scowl deepened.

“Like I was saying earlier, you idiot-"

"I'm not an idiot!"

"I’m not finished yet but I could leave your damn arm hanging off to sway with the wind if you want.”

Ooshiba huffed and turned up his nose and he was going to cross his arms over his chest until he remembered his injury a little too late and yelped when it dangled like a pendulum. Well then.

Kimishita smirked at the other’s put off expression.

“Whatever. Just fix my arm.”

“Sit your ass down then.” He retorted and waited while Ooshiba did as directed and easily heaved himself back on the table. Kimishita cracked his own back and rubbed his neck as he took another look at the large cables that were supposed to act as muscles. He didn’t need to ask if the guy had any pain receptors. He’d been cringing enough for it to be obvious but … 

“So, do you wanna be shut down or … can you deal with the pain?”

“Um, I’ll just deal with it.”

Kimishita shrugged. “If you say so.” He agreed and resumed his work on Ooshiba’s arm. It was oddly quiet after that, the only other noise in the shop being Ooshiba’s somewhat labored breathing and the sound of evening traffic as he rotated the dislocated limb and forced the joint back into its socket with a ‘pop’. It must’ve hurt because Ooshiba sucked in a sharp breath and gripped his thigh with his human arm until his knuckles turned white and Ooshiba’s jeans wrinkled under the pressure.  

“Fucking hurts.” Ooshiba hissed.

Kimishita actually felt bad for him and pointed to the slab of steel. “Almost done. Grab that with your robotic arm and just let it hang.” He instructed and when Ooshiba did, he was pleased to see the tension cables stretch out.

“It’s heavy.”

“Stop complaining.” Kimishita chided and started to mend the cables stretching from the hinge of his elbow to the ball joint of his wrist. He finished one and repeated the steps over again. And once again in the repetition, his gaze wanted to wander the faintest bit. He stayed focused however and did a fantastic job ignoring how Ooshiba's eyes were searching his face and watching his every move. 

“Okay,” Kimishita announced once he finished up the last cable, tested the tension and closed the area back up as best he could. “You’re missing some skin, but it's all done.” He wiped sweat from his brow and cleaned off his hands with a rag before looking back at Ooshiba who was busy looking absolutely thrilled as he swung his arm in a large circle and flexed experimentally. Kimishita couldn't help but wonder if Ooshiba even remembered him from last night. After all, the other hadn't brought it up at all. But then again, neither had he.

“C’mon” He sighed. “We gotta see my dad.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, things will start picking up and become more ShibaKimi centric. I just had to try and establish Ooshiba first in order to do that :3 Next update will be in a week!

This was the loudest that silence had ever been in their small home and it made Kimishita feel too awkward to even fidget from his spot by the kitchen counter. His father sat at the table with the synthetic in front of him. They were just looking at each other for a minute and anybody else would have thought that they were silently communicating. But Kimishita knew his father better than that. He was thinking. Thinking about his next move because Ooshiba had checked out. All his internal workings were up to speed and undamaged – his processor remained unharmed. Now, all that was left was to figure out what the hell to do with him. Synthetics were something of a controversy because at one point they were human – living creatures of the same species as himself and the rest of the population. Kimishita stifled a yawn and let his eyes roll over to Ooshiba who was seated and currently, nervously chewing his nails. It was so human – _because he was human_ , Kimishita chided himself. Even if he was modified, he was still a living, breathing being. He had to remember that to keep himself from becoming the kind of person he and his father both hated. The kind of person who saw these cyborgs as less than human and treated them as such.

When the idea of turning people in government and public safety positions (not including political figures) into cyborgs first arose, a little over half of the population was all for it as evidenced by the votes. People were excited even. It was like a fantasy turned reality. These new age modifications would allow ordinary humans to be faster, stealthier and stronger and ‘mutating’ their brains would allow certain emotions to be enhanced or dulled in some cases depending on their occupations. These people would essentially become the ideal.

And they were too until the novelty wore off and people began to voice their legitimate fears of what could happen if a cyborg were to become violent on a normal human which led to the fear of cyborgs becoming unstable be it because of a virus or something else of the sort - a threat to society. There were also ethical concerns such as: Was it okay to dull down a person's empathy and feelings of concern? Would doing so turn them into a murder in the future?

It had caused a plethora of problems like riots and protests until eventually, finally, a bill was passed and those that had received the modifications in the past ten years were no longer able to live on their own. Suddenly, they couldn’t do things like leave their government jobs or go outside alone without being forced to disguise themselves and the punishment for being caught was up to five years of prison time and two years house arrest for endangering the public and causing panic. There were others who thought differently, though, other people like Kimishita and his father who thought that such a widespread law was bullshit. It was total bullshit to change these people or allow them to change themselves for the good of the public and then oppress them for it afterward. And they were _still_ allowing people to be modified for these jobs as long as they knew the stipulations. It was fucking stupid, Kimishita thought, to be scared of something you voted for.

Kimishita snapped out of it in time to see Ooshiba abandon his nails and move on to his cracked and torn bottom lip when Kimishita’s father picked up the house phone from off the table. Kimishita wanted to feel bad, he really did. But what else could be done? Abandoned synthetics had to be reported to The Bureau so they wouldn’t be left to wander the streets and as unfair as it was, the law was still the law. They didn’t need any more problems. Kimishita was about to confirm this aloud when his father sighed and sat the phone down.

“Ooshiba-kun” Kimishita’s dad started and crossed his arms then an ankle over his knee in typical dad fashion. “We may have repaired you but you can’t go out there alone. It’s against the law, you know.”

“Yeah ...” He swallowed, “I know.”

If Ooshiba hadn’t looked like a kid before, he did now and Kimishita had to wonder how someone _that_ big could appear _that_ vulnerable. He just seemed so downcast the way his eyes fell and once his head drooped, the rest seemed to follow along – his shoulders, back and hair. His everything.

“Look, do you have a family?” Kimishita found himself speaking out and it surprised him, how empathetic he sounded. He’d hardened a bit since his mom left.

“Maybe?” Ooshiba answered, unsure of himself and his shoulders slumped as he deflated even more. “I became a companion cyborg at eighteen so my sister wouldn’t have to stay at a psychiatric hospital. My parents were doctors so they were too busy to care for her.”

“She had schizo … something disorder with major depression so she couldn’t – anyway,” Ooshiba cleared his throat. “It worked and we all lived together.”

Kimishita ran a hand through his hair and took a shallow breath. He had a weird feeling bubbling up his chest. Like, this little explanation wasn’t about to have a happy ending.

“Everything was fine until she …”

She what?

“And then my parents divorced and my mom is away for now.” Ooshiba licked the blood on his bottom lip. “So, I guess I don’t have a family.”

Kimishita was at a loss for words for the first time in five months. Luckily, his dad came to the rescue and Kimishita could immediately recognize the signs of ‘dad mode’.

“Listen,” His dad said, voice soft as he placed a hand on the synthetic’s human shoulder. Sometimes a touch helped more than words and something in the way Ooshiba’s mouth fell open, told Kimishita that the idiot hadn’t experienced real comfort in a while.

“You have a family then, huh? They’re all just in different places.” His father smiled then, the slight wrinkles around his eyes deepening as he did so.

Ooshiba was about to say something – protest probably – until Kimishita’s dad leaned back and clapped his hands. “Right! It’s getting late. Let’s just worry about all this tomorrow.”

 “Hah?” Ooshiba reeled his head back and looked from Kimishita to his father. “What am I ‘sposed to do until tomorrow? Sleep outside?”

Ack. Kimishita closed his eyes and tried to _just breathe_ because he needed patience and understanding.

It didn't work.

He stomped over and roughly grabbed the other by the collar, taking him by surprise.

 “That's my father, dumbass! Learn some basic respect! Respect!”

Ooshiba growled and stood up, ignoring the way the strong grip on his shirt bent his body into an awkward stoop. “I have manners!” He protested. “What about yours, huh?! You can’t just go grabbing people by their shirts!”

Kimishita had been ready to point out the fact that he wouldn’t have even grabbed him by the shirt collar if he’d used his damn manners in the first place when he heard an amused laugh.

“Young men are certainly energetic these days.” He said and smirked when the two males huffed. “I’m glad to see you’re both getting along so well.”

“… What?” Kimishita questioned, incredulous as he threw a glare Ooshiba’s way and reluctantly let go. “You call this getting along?”

Ooshiba stuck his tongue out at Kimishita and the brunette wanted to strangle him.

His dad must have chosen to ignore him because he gestured around the room and resumed his earlier proposal. “As you can see, we don’t have much space, but you can take the couch if you’d-”

“T-That’s fine!” Ooshiba nearly shouted, irises bright and Kimishita rubbed his temples.

“Hey, don’t interrupt people!” He chided for what he felt like had to be the hundredth time that night since his father booted up the synthetic. Seriously, the guy was like a child and – wait. Kimishita’s eyes widened. It took a minute to hit him but when it did, it was like he'd been smacked down by a car. His dad was actually about to let this guy stay for the night? Kimishita glared at the tiny table because he couldn't even dream of glaring at his dad and then brought his attention back to the big idiot sitting next to it. Kimishita began gnawing on his own nails this time. It was felt weird to have someone else sit there, he realized as he looked at Ooshiba who was now leaning against it and talking to his father. Kimishita couldn't erase the feeling that something about this was wrong.

The whole situation was wrong.

Ooshiba looked far too comfortable for somebody who’d been dragged out of danger and repaired. He was too eager to accept the invitation to stay the night with complete strangers. Too eager to impose on their broken family. Why couldn't his father have just notified the authorities? Kimishita tried to sigh out of his bubbling irritation but it wouldn’t leave. He kept picturing his mom sitting in the same chair as Ooshiba, talking and making animated conversation with them just days before she abandoned them. And no, she didn’t belong at that table anymore but neither did Ooshiba. They weren't a fucking shelter. Kimishita clenched his jaw, he suddenly wanted to yell at his dad for making that kind of decision without bringing it up with him first. For throwing him off balance.  And really, he knew that his dad didn’t do anything wrong – that it was only for a night and he _really_ didn’t have to ask for permission or discuss anything with him pertaining to Ooshiba or anyone else. Kimishita already knew he was being amazingly immature. He _knew_ but still. It didn’t do anything to take away the irrational wave of irritation and betrayal he felt at that very moment. Betrayal was probably way too strong a word but he didn’t know how else to describe it. The recent lack of control in his life these past few months had started to cut deep and now that feeling of _needing_ some semblance of it was bleeding into something as stupid as this.

“Atsushi”

Kimishita jumped.

“What?” He asked and his palms were sweaty, he noticed as he tried to play off the fact that he’d been startled.

“I was introducing us.” His dad supplied and craned his neck to peek over his shoulder at Kimishita who had by now lifted himself up on the counter top. “You okay?”

“I'm fine.” Kimishita wiped his palms down the front of his pants.

A silence had just begun to fall over the room when Ooshiba spoke up.

“You were daydreaming or in deep thought.” He said and Ooshiba had stated it as such a fact that it made Kimishita’s dad raise his eyebrows and himself stiffen. “That's what the system is telling me, anyway.”

“Tch, mind your business, _Kiichi_.” Kimishita wasn't above using first names to piss people off.

“Eh?!” Ooshiba cried, “Don't act so familiar with me!”

“I'll kick you out.”

It was an innocent thing – a habit even – for a synthetic to conduct searches in their database for background checks, facial expressions, foreign languages, dialects, and vocabulary but Kimishita was already on edge. Already naturally annoyed and currently thrown off at how easy it'd been for Ooshiba to read him.

 “Please, we both know that you can't.”

Damn it. He'd been called out on his bluff.

Kimishita rubbed his temples and dug out his phone, choosing to pointedly ignore Ooshiba as his dad got up to get a spare blanket and pillow from the linen closet. He still couldn't believe he was staying the night, Kimishita grumbled quietly to himself as he opened up his oldest alert from Indou. He'd almost forgotten about it.

**[09:16]**

**Indou** : Did u see the SH yet (≧∀≦)

 

Kimishita blanched at his phone, jaw dropping as he read the short message over and over and over again until he was _at_ _least_ ninety-five percent sure that his friend of sorts was talking about Ooshiba. So, this bastard was the mysterious son his father had been talking about earlier. Why hadn't he just said that shit earlier instead of being all vague about it?

Then again, his dad did have this annoying tendency to leave out details when absorbed in work. Kimishita tapped out a reply.

 

**[20:42]**

**Kimishita:** That was you?

**[20:42]**

**Indou:** Yep. How is he? I guys fixed him?

 **Indou:** U**

 

**[20:43]**

**Kimishita:**  Smh. He's annoying as hell

 

Kimishita waited. He stared at his phone for nearly a minute but put it back when he figured Indou was done for now. The guy was usually a fast ‘texter’ so when he didn't reply instantly, he was probably busy or just done. Kimishita made a mental note to strangle Indou later for inadvertently turning his average day upside down by bringing the synthetic to the shop. If it hadn’t been for him, Ooshiba wouldn’t be around to spend the night and take over their home. How he even had gotten that giant hunk of metal parts over here to begin with was a complete mystery. Ooshiba’s arm alone was fucking weighty enough. He vaguely wondered how much Ooshiba could lift before deciding he had enough of ignoring the redhead and was going to ask if he was hungry until he saw him nodding off at the table.

“Hey,” He said, this time without his usual irritation and nudged the other’s shoulder with his hand. “Go to bed if you’re tired.”

“Wha-?” Ooshiba asked, eyes bleary. “But it’s only …”

“He’s right, Ooshiba-kun.” Kimishita’s dad appeared and gestured towards the living room with a jerk of his head. “I set up the blanket and pillow on the couch. You had a rough day, right?”

“Well maybe … but-”

“You’ll still be here in the morning. Don’t worry.”

Kimishita’s heart did something new and strange when Ooshiba looked at his dad like a deer caught in the headlights. His mouth opened and closed, eyes wide for a few moments before he looked away and Kimishita recognized the action as shame because he’d seen that same look on plenty of people before. He’d even felt it on himself. It didn’t suit the redhead, Kimishita decided as he tried to find the bright eyes under a veil of bangs. It made his chest ache a little to think that the idiot was actually worried about being shut down in his sleep and waking up in an even stranger place.

“Thank you…” Ooshiba replied, grateful and stood up. His voice was unsteady, soft even as crossed the short expanse of the kitchen and disappeared into the living room.

Kimishita had an urge to follow him and would have done so if his father hadn’t grabbed his arm.

“He needs space and sleep.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue, face flushed from being caught and shook his arm free. “Fine. I’m goin’ back downstairs with you then. Repairing Kiichi put us behind schedule.”

His dad looked at him funny and laughed quietly. “You’re too serious for your age.”

“ _One of us_ has to be.” Kimishita jabbed back. His voice held a playful edge as his dad elbowed him in the ribs and he winced.

“C’mon then, Atsushi.” He pressed a cold, water bottle into Kimishita’s chest and ushered him towards the door. “It’s going to be a long night.”

 

***

 

His dad hadn’t been lying. When Kimishita sat that last completed project down on a table his whole body was tremoring with pure exhaustion. It was the kind of tired that made it hard to stay standing but gave you a second wind at the same time. He scribbled customer’s last names on a few tags and secured them to all the fixed items. There was a twelve year old child synthetic – a doll subtype – in the corner with a blanket draped over her in a way that always made him uncomfortable. Her name was Aoi and they were about half way done with her and were scheduled to finish by Tuesday. She had contracted a mean virus after her adoptive brother tried to download some sketchy pornography software into her system and it affected every synthetic part of Aoi's body. It had essentially paralyzed her and messed up the chip implanted in her brain so fucking bad that they had to completely shut her down. It was sad and the existence of perverts was exactly why the government usually kept child synthetics from being adopted into families and instead placed them in government facilities. But money could get you anything as long as you had enough of it. Kimishita shook his head. At least her mother was upset about it. That counted for something. Maybe. Kimishita looked away from the small synthetic and fought against the chill creeping up his spine. She looked dead. Hopefully, they’d have her up and running on time. Children were supposed to be energetic and annoying – not still and sick.

A soft blue light began to peek through the partially closed blinds and when he looked up, he saw his dad writing in an inventory booklet at his desk. He was jotting things down and stamping every so often and the heavy bags under his eyes were serious – a grayish brown – and puffy like he’d been crying the whole night. His jaw looked almost pointy in places Kimishita never noticed before and the skin stretching over his collarbones looked painfully thin and taught. He needed to eat, Kimishita thought and frowned as he filled out a few forms for his completed work and filed them away to give to the customers on Monday. He could gently tell him or shout it out but it wouldn’t make a difference. His dad would never listen to him. Somewhere in the back of his head, Kimishita knew that the old man was just trying to labor away from the pain his wife left that day. No matter how much his dad denied it, Kimishita _knew_ he was suffering. Suffering quietly but in pain nonetheless so Kimishita had to be as strong and helpful as possible, in every way he could. There wasn’t time for friends or playing soccer for hours on end like he used to. There was work to be done and help to be had. His dad _needed_ him. He wouldn’t eat at that table until his father did which was now going on six months and probably counting. Kimishita looked around the brightly lit shop and decided to make coffee because he’s seen this before. His dad wouldn’t be moving an inch for another hour or so.

He walked to the door, his feet aching yet again as he toed off his boots and bounded up the stairs to their flat and when he reached the final step, he noticed a smell wafting from the kitchen. It seemed to hit him in the face and it smelled so good, it was odd that it’d be coming from their home since – no.

 _No_ , really?

Kimishita crossed the living room and noticed the couch was empty and the blankets were tossed aside, pillow discarded on the floor. He couldn’t be. Ooshiba couldn’t be cooking … could he? Kimishita nibbled his lip as he stuck his head around the corner and when he did, his jaw dropped. _He_ _was_. Ooshiba was humming as the stove, working something in a skillet and the place was an absolute mess but the aroma filling up the space smelled amazing. But why? Kimishita stepped in the kitchen. Maybe it was just a meal for himself.

“Mornin’” Ooshiba muttered from the stove and Kimishita blinked, surprised that he even noticed him.

“Morning” He greeted to the expanse of a black shirt. He watched Ooshiba cook in silence for a minute as he pondered his next move and eventually settled for his usual blunt approach.

“What the hell are you doing in the kitchen?”

“Cooking, _obviously_.”

“Tch, don’t be a smartass.”

Ooshiba yawned, his voice was still rough and quiet from sleep. It was oddly soothing against Kimishita’s shot nerves and it probably would have been appreciated if the redhead hadn’t opened his mouth again.

“Then ask better questions.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Just answer the question, Kiichi.”

“Don’t call me Kiichi!” Ooshiba snapped, tone scratchy at the edges as he turned around with skillet and some of whatever he was making flew over the side.

“You’re making a bigger mess, dumbass!” Kimishita growled and stomped over to the tall synthetic male. He snatched a couple paper towels off a roll and knelt down to clean it up. It wasn’t like it was a **huge** mess so it shouldn’t have been a big deal but when combined with the haphazardly tossed blanket and pillow in the living room and the war zone that once was a kitchen, it pissed him off and it was enough to annoy anyone. Finished, he tossed the soiled paper towels in the trash bin and jerked back when he turned around to find Ooshiba suddenly there and very solid as he backed up for some space after smacking into a hard chest.

"Tch, what the hell's with you?" Kimishita asked. "Move it already."

Ooshiba stared down at him, his green eyes were evaluating and suddenly Kimishita felt something he hadn’t felt in years. He felt small. His heart stumbled in his chest at the warmth he could just barely feel as he watched one of Ooshiba’s pupils expand and for a moment he thought something was wrong – that he’d have to call his dad until the other finally spoke.

“Thanks.”

Kimishita felt a flush run up his neck and he had the feeling that his _thanks_ was for more than just cleaning up the dripped mess. It was probably for letting him stay over too. Kimishita shifted as he stared. Ooshiba leaned in and the light spilling into the kitchen did wonders for those mossy eyes that were so full of … appreciation? It was overwhelming. Kimishita wanted to curse when his cheeks grew warm.

“I mean it.” He affirmed.

 “It’s ... It's cool.” The words tumbled out of his mouth and they sounded dumb and awkward but apparently, it didn’t matter. Or maybe it did and _that_ was why Ooshiba smirked and straightened up and suddenly the warmth was gone with a small gust of cool air brushing his front.

“Your dad just let a total stranger spend the night and fixed me up for free … I think? I could at least make breakfast for you guys.” Ooshiba resumed answering Kimishita’s earlier question like nothing had just transpired and perhaps it hadn’t. But it certainly _felt_ like something. Whatever the hell it was.

Kimishita didn’t feel like going back downstairs or yelling for his dad. Call it laziness or fatigue – either way, he pulled out his phone and sent a text telling him that Ooshiba made breakfast. He felt awkward just standing in the kitchen like he didn’t live there so he busied himself with cleaning up the mess of ingredients, pans, and utensils against Ooshiba’s protests. It was already enough that Ooshiba was a guest and making them breakfast. He couldn’t let him clean too. Well, he could because Ooshiba was the one who made the damn mess. But he didn’t want to. Kimishita cleared off the counter top and had just loaded up the dishwasher when they both heard footsteps coming up the stairs. It was Kimishita’s father.

“Ooshiba-kun, you didn’t have to.” His dad said, amazed at the three plates filled with food on the kitchen table. “This is … you really did this?”

Ooshiba smiled, looking smug and Kimishita knew that if the other’s nose could grow, it would’ve in that moment.

“Yeah, I did!” He needlessly confirmed, proud of himself until Kimishita elbowed him in the side. “It’s a thank you for letting me stay the night and repairing me. You didn’t have to.”

Kimishita’s dad smiled, and it wasn’t the small, tired one he’d been wearing lately.

“I couldn’t just leave you like that, now could I?” He asked, the question was rhetorical but of course Ooshiba didn’t pick up on it and answered anyway.

“Yes, you could’ve.”

Kimishita rolled his eyes and his dad chuckled, amused as he sat down and waved them over.

“Let’s eat. It’d be rude to let all this go to waste.

Kimishita was surprised that his stomach didn’t start growling. It's been two days since his last complete meal due to being either too busy, too tired or some awful combination of both. Ooshiba looked nervous as they sat and grabbed their chopsticks. Despite his dad’s earlier statement, neither of them had touched their food yet. He and Ooshiba were both waiting for his dad to start eating first but for different reasons. Ooshiba was waiting because he was actually trying to be polite but it was different for Kimishita. It was deeper than that and more personal. There's been a cloud covering them for months when it came down to certain objects in this house like the stove, the old living room chair that still had a basket full of yarn beside it and the dining table. All three of those perfectly normal things brought on a new wave of pain. Somebody would’ve probably thought there was a death in the family – the way they were going on. His dad looked almost uncomfortable and Kimishita was about to give him an escape, tell him that he didn’t have to eat if he didn’t want to but his dad surprised him when he visibly steeled himself and dug in. His eyebrows were drawn together nice and tight and Ooshiba probably thought Kimishita’s dad didn’t like the taste because he started rambling about too much salt.

Kimishita eyed his own plate, his stomach finally growling as he took a bite and when the taste hit him, his eyes widened. It was mild and delicious. He took another bite then and swallowed. For the most part, they ate in silence. But there was something nice about it; something that brought a wave of relief over Kimishita. It made his throat tighten.

“This-” He started but was cut off.

“This is good.” His dad complimented.

 Ooshiba perked up and his dad’s face was bright like it’d been when Kimishita had scored his first soccer goal and fixed his first robot. It had been a little thing that was meant to go around in circles and polish floors. The switch had broken off and a piece in the battery compartment needing replacing – that was it but his dad had been so happy when he fixed it at ten years old. That was the look he was giving off now. Like he was pleased. As if life for a moment was going well and Kimishita felt a weight lifting off his shoulders and a smile tug at his lips.

Kimishita cleared his plate in record time and went for seconds. He didn’t realize how hungry he had been until he actually started eating.

“So, Ooshiba-kun,”

“Huh?” Ooshiba distractedly answered as he all but inhaled another plate.

“Mind if I ask a question?”

Kimishita raised a brow and looked to his dad who kept talking in between bites.

“It’s nothing bad or personal.” He reassured and wiped his mouth. “I promise.”

Ooshiba shrugged and pushed away his plate. “Okay”

“You seem rather expressive for an S.H.” Kimishita’s dad started and cocked his head to the side. “How many of your emotions were left intact?”

“All of them.”

When he received surprised looks from the two mechanics, Ooshiba continued.

“Yeah, because …”

Kimishita blinked and set his chopsticks down when the iris of Ooshiba’s right eye expanded. The red undertone was a dead giveaway that the auburn male was searching his database for information.

“Basically, humans that have been modified to be company subtypes keep all their emotions. Our sense of empathy and loyalty have been enhanced to better connect with mentally ill patients.” He summarized and then started reading some invisible text neither Kimishita nor his dad could see.

“Company subtypes or ‘companies’ are also reequipped with at least one full metal arm as such the standard for all synthetics in the event in the event above human strength is needed. Apart from other synthetics, something unique to companies are the extensive medical database programmed into their chips.” When Ooshiba’s eye went back to normal he stood up and stretched. “At least that’s what the database says.”

“It’s obvious,” Kimishita said and picked up his plate. “You could never sound so smart.”

“How the hell would you know?!” Ooshiba cried, offended.

“It’s a gut feeling.” Was all he said and ignored whatever Ooshiba had verbally thrown back at him in favor of his father who was back to looking troubled and preoccupied.

“What’s the matter?” He asked and his gut twisted. He hated that look.

“Oh, nothing really. I was just thinking that …” His dad started, “… instead of calling the authorities, Ooshiba-kun could work for Indou-san. It’s not against the law for a synthetic to work outside of their government assigned job under certain circumstances, is it Ooshiba-kun?”

“Nope.” He answered. “I worked for a family's convience store before I was kicked out.”

 _Kicked out._ Kimishita wanted to scoff. He made it sound so normal. He wasn’t just kicked out. He had been beat-up with what looked like a metal bat and abandoned for reasons unknown. At least, reason unknown to them. He had no doubt that Ooshiba knew why. Kimishita wanted to ask last night but got the feeling that the tall synthetic didn’t want to talk about it just yet. Or ever.

“Right. Before he dropped Ooshiba-kun off, Indou-kun said his father wouldn’t mind.”

It felt wrong to talk about him in third person like he wasn’t there but he couldn’t bring himself to be irritated, not when his father looked so earnest in helping.

“I don’t want to live with Indou-san!” Ooshiba blurted out and Kimishita nearly stumbled back at the sheer volume of his voice.

“Idiot!” Kimishita ground out. “What’re you talking about? Do you wanna go –”

“I want to live here!” Ooshiba interrupted. “I wanna stay here and work for you, Kimishita-san!”

Shit.


	3. Chapter 3

“Let me stay with you!”

Fucking shit.

Something akin to disbelief washed over Kimishita and he couldn't keep his jaw from dropping. Ooshiba basically (and selfishly) said he wanted _live with them_ indefinitely after his father had probably stayed up part of last night just figuring out where to safely place him. His father would never say yes. They didn’t have space nor money for that matter to take care of an extra person and Synthetics couldn’t exactly get secondary jobs either. Indou’s dad was certainly a better option. He had a massive house and a booming business with impressive pay to go along with it. Not to mention, Indou-san already had one other synthetic working under him that Ooshiba would probably be able to get along with. Logically, it was the best decision – for all three of them – and Kimishita was steeling himself to say as much – to take control of the situation– until Ooshiba _bowed_ right in their kitchen.

“Please! I’ll work hard!”

Ooshiba was unmoving, his voice loud and strong and Kimishita felt the need to speak his mind before Ooshiba could further reduce himself to a begging mess.

“Tch, you can’t just beg your way into people’s homes.” Kimishita said, “Besides, Indou-san has better–”

“Atsushi,” His dad interrupted and held up a hand. “Let _me_ be the boss, alright?”

Kimishita jolted and looked away, his mouth snapping shut. Right. Shame spread over his face in red splotches and he was glad, suddenly, that Ooshiba was bowing so deeply and feeling serious enough not to comment.

“And Ooshiba-kun, as for you, I know where my son was headed and he’s absolutely right.” He said, “The closest thing to a bed you’d ever get here is that couch in the living room and earlier this year, I lost a good deal of customers so I wouldn’t even be able to give you proper pay.”

Even from his position, Kimishita could see the other’s face falling. The muscles in between Ooshiba’s shoulder blades coiled under his t-shirt and Kimishita was starting to experience a softening of heart. He wanted to tell him to straighten up. To tell him about all the good benefits of being a part of Indou-san’s business, that he simply wouldn’t get here. That they couldn’t _afford_ to give him. As he studied the other’s back, he thought about all he was going to say earlier and how he’d been ready to call him childish and just plain fucking selfish for wanting to stay but how could he when Ooshiba looked so dejected? He wasn’t a _total_ hardass.

“Not to mention, working here is hard and the hours are long. However,” His father continued and then he smiled something tired and exasperated but fond.

Kimishita frowned at that. No way.

“If you pull your weight and don't mind what I just told you … it may take some getting used to on our part but I don't see it being a problem.”

Ooshiba practically leaped out of the bow, his whole face instantly brightened as soon as the words fell from the older man’s lips. “I can stay?” He asked, earnest and hopeful and Kimishita felt whatever irritation he had left just melt away. It made Kimishita scoff and Ooshiba frowned at him.

His dad laughed. "Yes, you can stay.” He affirmed and then checked his watch. “We’d usually be going to sleep for a couple hours right about now but we can squeeze out a few more minutes. Atsushi, do you mind showing him around the shop? He can get training in tomorrow.”

It was an order disguised as a request and he knew it so Kimishita shrugged and sighed. There wasn’t a point in complaining or trying to talk some sense into the man because once his dad made up his mind on something, there was almost no talking him out of it. Plus, he’d been embarrassed one too many times today for trying to ‘be the boss’. He turned to Ooshiba, his cheeks and ears still lightly dusted over with now faint pink splotches but oddly, the red head continued to ignore it. Kimishita was immensely grateful even though he’d never say it and turned for the door after his dad strolled out the kitchen.

“C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

 

**

 

The lights were bright, a stark contrast to the yellow dullness of the old kitchen and Kimishita watched Ooshiba blink at the change.

“So, obviously, this is the shop.” He started and surveyed the modest space for a moment before pointing to various areas of the shop and explaining what was what.

He could probably do this with his eyes shut, Kimishita thought to himself as he waved his hand to a station that had the soldering tools he had used earlier that day and explained how its off limits to the likes of Ooshiba which earned him an indignant snort. If Kimishita’s dad came up to him and told him that he had actually been born in the repair shop instead of a hospital, he wouldn’t bat an eyelash. This place was all he knew. This was the place he frequented and spent his days and nights in when things went wrong like when soccer failed him and University didn’t quite work out. Like when his mom left his father in the cold and stressed about how to keep the business running for the last six to nine months. So, he knew this place like the back of his hand and everything was going smoothly, or rather, as smoothly as it could with Ooshiba’s thousands of questions until Ooshiba started wandering around and came across one table in particular. Kimishita’s eyes widened and he stretched his hand out towards Ooshiba.

 “Hey, wait. Don’t mess-” Kimishita tried to warn him but it came a moment too late. He could only watch as Ooshiba peeked under the sheet and jumped back with a yelp. Kimishita clicked his tongue and jogged over to the table where the child’s body laid prone on the table and Ooshiba stared between him and the girl with wide, startled eyes.

“What the _hell_ is-!?”

“She’s a synthetic.” Kimishita interrupted. He glared at Ooshiba’s volume but his dark eyes softened somewhat when he looked back at the broken girl. She’d be fixed soon.

“I know that!” Ooshiba spat and returned the glare tenfold. He wasn’t intimidated by Kimishita’s hard looks and it showed. “I was asking you what the hell is she doing down here alone in this cold ass shop!? She’s like five!”

Kimishita rolled his eyes. Where the hell else was she supposed to be? “First of all, shut-up. Second, she’s not five. She’s twelve - older than you apparently.” He knew that part was petty but whatever. “Third, she’s undergoing repairs. That’s why she’s down here. Synthetics are supposed to stay in shops when they’re being serviced for artificial parts or virus removal.”

“She’s not just a synthetic.” Ooshiba mumbled as he ignored the age comment and pulled the sheet up to her clavicle, mindful of the drip bag and tubes connected to her body.  “She’s a human being.”

Kimishita almost frowned when the girl’s thick, black hair fanned out in geometric patterns across the pillow and flitted over her nose due to a gust of wind that came in from a cracked window. He didn’t like to see movement from synthetics when they were being repaired and opened up so intensely like this. Kimishita looked at the metal of her neck from where his father had flayed the skin open to access a port there. It made the job easier – especially with children.

“Obviously.” He snapped, although it lacked bite.

 She was more synthetic than Ooshiba was though. Way more. They had looked into her background and discovered she used to be a quadriplegic after unknowingly jumping into the shallow end of a lake during a family cookout. Her parents couldn’t afford the healthcare and eventually gave her up at the age of eight. Her body was sixty-two percent synthetic including her spine. It was a record as far as his father was concerned. The metal made her heavier than normal synthetics her age as well.

Kimishita blinked and turned his head up to look at Ooshiba. The light was starting to really filter in now and he frowned when Ooshiba suddenly coughed in his fist and looked away. Had Ooshiba been staring? At him? Annoyingly enough, Kimishita found himself trying to calm the skipping of his heart at the thought.

“So, w-what’s her name?”

“Tatsuma Umi.” Kimishita answered and awkwardly rubbed the nape of his neck when Ooshiba still wouldn’t look down. The redhead was quiet and apparently very interested in one of the old shelving units that were mounted to the wall and Kimishita cleared his throat.

It worked.

“What?” Ooshiba’s eyes snapped over to his, the tall male’s red flush had already started to fade.

“We’re done here,” Kimishita grabbed the sheet and pulled it back up to cover the girl’s face. Better. “So, I’m gonna take a nap.” It’d be disturbing for the customers if one of them walked in and saw her neck exposed to the metal bones. “You can relax in the apartment if you want.”

Ooshiba shook his head. His red hair moved with him as he declined. “I’m going outside.”

Kimishita paused and parroted the gesture. “You can’t go out on your own.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

And there it was – that childishness.

“Don’t be such a kid.” He shot back as he spun around and walked towards the door. “You’ll get in trouble.”

“No, I won’t.”

Kimishita rubbed his temples. One day he was going to pop a blood vessel. “Fine.” He gritted out, relenting as his eyes grew heavy while he stood on his feet.  He was too tired. It was the kind of fatigue that ran bone deep after pulling an all-nighter and all he wanted to do was take a nap – not argue with Ooshiba. “Just cover up that arm and wear sunglasses. Your neck too.” He mentioned as an afterthought. “I couldn’t reattach the skin on the side of your neck after lifting it since it was grafted on. Can you feel it missing?” He asked and walked back over to the table where Ooshiba still stood.

Ooshiba blinked owlishly. “No,” He said and felt up the side of his neck. “Ah. It’s really gone.”

And Kimishita didn’t exactly know what possessed him to almost casually touch Ooshiba’s elbow but it made his heart flutter.

“How about this?”

Maybe a part of him was curious but it sent a wave of something unidentifiable through him to know that just beneath this sleek metal exterior were layers of intertwined heavy cables, carbon steel for bones and unbridled strength. Ooshiba had been strong enough to hold a slab of one-hundred-and-fifty-pound metal with a barely functional arm. He could only-

“Nah-uh.”

Kimishita traced a bicep then flitted his fingers up to Ooshiba’s shoulder where black and silver steel met flesh and pressed his palm against the joint. He frowned when he got no reaction and his chest tightened as the light in Ooshiba’s green eyes dimmed.

“I only feel pain, mostly.”

Oh. Kimishita dropped his hand like it hurt and stepped back. Whatever that had been happening had left them both.

"Go to sleep, Kimishita. You look awful."

Ooshiba stretched, the core of energy stored in his arm whirred softly from the movement and he tried to lighten the mood. He'd been through this enough times to know how to change a subject. Once people found out Ooshiba couldn't feel, they generally took away his metaphorical human card. Things always got awkward after that.

And he was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I'm so extremely late but here it is. Now that life isn't so hectic, I'll get back to my Sunday updates. So, not this Sunday but NEXT Sunday, I'll have another update for you guys with hopefully a much longer chapter as I start towards the plot in chapter 4 which will probably be switching to Ooshiba's side now that he's been properly incorporated.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking updates will be every Sunday :3 let me know what you guys think about this chapter so far?


End file.
